Postapocalyptia S1E5: The Counts of Montecristo

[Ayreonia]

PREVIOUSLY ON OOC Episode One - Tits Hills | Episode Two - The World's End | Episode Three - The Deep Sands | Episode Four - Pseudosunrise Episode Five - The Counts of Montecristo (Music) The crew finally reach the fabled Glow - only to be intercepted by both the Archaeologists' Association and Gazprom. To Hiram's great surprise, the parties are led by his old friends Jamie and Toni, his former Vagabonds-in-arms, both of whom he thought dead. The Vagabonds pose as an UNSEC Independent Patrol, the ruse works. Realizing the volatility of the situation, the three groups form an uneasy truce, each exploring a different part of the ruin. The three leaders set off to the central dome, from which the glow appears to originate. They find a lot of interesting stuff, and then, of course, one stabs the two others in the back. Toni claims the Glow for Gazprom and orders his troops to kill the rest. A brief three-way scuffle begins and ends soon in Toni's escape as Hiram and Jamie gang up on him. Then, as expected, Jamie pulls a gun on Hiram and forces him to board the AA carrier. Meanwhile, Eira meets AA grunt Hew Parish, whose friends she ate a long ago. Parish remembers her and is understandably scared, but the common threat of Gazprom forces them to work together to fight their way out of the city. Furia and Severine make "friends" with one Leeann Hsiung, a Gazprom employee. Russ and Jack scream at each other. Etcetera. Battle! Lots of people die. Everyone makes it out alive except Asef, who is shot to death. The AA retreat on their carrier, which soon falls from the sky due to crafty sabotage by Clara. Hiram is nowhere in the wreckage. Postapocalyptia OST - Rigel Three Overture (*cultured British voice*) Rigel Three. Such a boring, generic and nonromantic name for a planet. When the first human colonists arrived, the United Nations Space Exploration Committee (UNSEC) was quick to christen it as such: it orbited the star Rigel and was the third planet. No more naming planets after ancient gods or figures of mythology: the human world was secular and politically correct now. A loaded name such as "Jesus" or "Allah" would simply not do. Of course, human nature is not so easily overridden by rules and protocols: upon seeing the desert landscape with ruins of an ancient and long-gone alien civilization jutting out, the colonists let their imagination run wild. The human mind pictured a once great culture, wiped out by... what? What indeed. Nobody knew, but the melancholy vista spoke volumes. This people had been destroyed by some cataclysmic event, an apocalypse of sort. And so, the colonists came up with a name, one that stuck and spread to new arrivals and the press. They named it Postapocalyptia. Arid and barren and consisting mostly of sand and rocks to the untrained eye, Postapocalyptia, or Postpoc, didn't really attract many settlers at first. Sure, there were the alien ruins, but those were hardly the first ones humanity had encountered, and who would really care about the skeletal remains of once great structures reaching into the sky? The answer is, obviously, archaeologists. So Postapocalytian society evolved into a collection of small townships where these explorers would find places to stay, along with fueling points and outposts where they could rest and recuperate during their journeys into the desert. That is, before they discovered timonium. Named after its finder, timonium was a wondrous substance. Sprinkle it onto the sand, and crops would grow even in the driest desert. Fill your vehicle with it, and it would behave like a more efficient version of Betelgeuzean biofuel. Drink it, and you die a horrible and painful death (yes, someone tried). Most importantly, burning it would generate exorbitant amounts of energy, at the cost of heavy pollution. And it was freaking everywhere. It looked like wherever you drilled, you could find some of the stuff. In fact, its many uses and spread across the entire planet made scientists speculate that timonium wasn't, in fact, a natural element, but a substance engineered by the now-extinct aliens of Postapocalyptia. And oh boy, did it start a 25th century version of the Gold Rush. Several energy and agricultural companies immediately took notice and landed their people on Rigel-3, only to be massively disappointed. It turned out that the reports the settlers had sent back home had been greatly exaggerated. While timonium was extremely useful in an underdeveloped place like Postapocalyptia, there were practically zero uses for it anywhere else. Those days, most crops were grown in massive hydroponic complexes, there were much cleaner ways of generating similar amounts of power, and alcohol was still the substance of choice for people who wanted to drink themselves to death. Feeling cheated, the corporations gathered what little initial staff and equipment they had brought and left the planet. Or would have, save for the fact that they couldn't. You see, unbeknownst to most of its denizens, Postapocalyptia had also become a test site for a new orbital power plant. Situated at the Lagrange point between Rigel-3 and its moon, this plant would collect a mixture of solar rays, cosmic radiation and gravitic energy, then convert it into electricity by some combination of science and witchcraft (presumably). Since it was all very new and experimental, nobody really understood the math behind it, so of course it was a matter of time before something got royally fucked up. Namely, the plant blew up, creating a massive gravitational flux in the system that prevented any spaceship from entering or leaving the system, lest they be crushed like tin cans on the ocean floor. Somehow, the planet itself wasn't affected, probably because of its own big-ass gravity well, but the settlers were pretty much stranded. And so, cut off and most likely forgotten by the rest of the world, the people of Postapocalyptia lived on. Law was in the hands of groups who had the most firepower, which initially meant the small armed security forces Gazprom and other corporations had brought with them. Gradually, these turned into something resembling a police force, but only in the larger settlements. In most parts of Postpoc, law was getting rewritten every day in the wake of the last gunfight as Vagabond bands fought hostile wildlife, bandits and each other in search of alien artifacts and riches. Ah, yes, the Vagabonds. Such a curious occupation could have never arisen anywhere else. Part explorer, part archaeologist and part gunslinger, these reckless wanderers braved Rigel-three's deserts in search of... what? Varying greatly in temperament and motivation, often the only thing that separated these men and women from regular homeless people was that they had (or at least pretended to have) some sort of scientific interest in the alien ruins dotting the landscape. They were wild, unpredictable and often feared by "decent" folk, with tales of their exploits told at campfires and dingy bars all across the planet. Of course every Postapocalyptian child wanted to become one when they grew up. Ah, yes, the Vagabonds. Such a curious occupation could have never arisen anywhere else. Part explorer, part archaeologist and part gunslinger, these reckless wanderers braved Rigel-three's deserts in search of... what? Varying greatly in temperament and motivation, often the only thing that separated these men and women from regular homeless people was that they had (or at least pretended to have) some sort of scientific interest in the alien ruins dotting the landscape. They were wild, unpredictable and often feared by "decent" folk, with tales of their exploits told at campfires and dingy bars all across the planet. Of course every Postapocalyptian child wanted to become one when they grew up. People kept their distance out of the respect-- "Russ. Hey, Russ. Stop murdering them. No, seriously. Russ. Listen." Well, maybe not out of respect. Music changes! A PORTAL TO THE MULTIVERSE PRODUCTION AN AYREONIA ROLEPLAY (Short clips of the characters doing their stuff, ending in a freeze frame with text) Ayreonia as Hiram Dupont, the Driver, and unwilling team member Hew Parish Cylarn as Russell Gellar, the Ex-Soldier, and his son Jack Mincaldenteans as Severine Fields, the Rogue Jessjohnesik as Anna Brand, the Hot Doctor, and her BFF Dahl Pan Asian Amercian Coalition as Elsha Johanshen, the Prodigy Transoxthraxia as Furia Madog, the Psycho The Carlisle as Takahashi Eira, the Plural Feroxi as Aeron Marec, the Philosopher Ameriganastan as Archie Crane, the Sniper ...and Lucy as herself! XENOBIOLOGY CONSULT: Jesshohnesik and Transoxthraxia (Jess and Sox argue over a drawing of a horse, then grab each other's collars) ARMAMENTS CONSULT: Ayreonia (Ayre tries to fit a rifle cartridge into a revolver while a loading bench collapses in the background) ART DIRECTOR: Pan Asian Amercian Coalition (PAAC sweats over a drawing board, sighs, tosses the drawing into an overflowing paper bin, draws a dick) CONSULT OF NAMING STUFF & PRETTY THINGS: Mincaldenteans (Min runs around a neighborhood in a hood and balaclava, vandalising street signs and billboards) SOUNDTRACK: Various artists (CCTV footage of someone walking into a record store, then escaping while clutching a bunch of albums) PRODUCED BY Portal to the Multiverse and NationStates WRITTEN BY Ayreonia (shot to Lucy and the gang speeding through the desert, with some of the people sitting on the turret, passing a bottle between them, camera pans as the tank rides into the sunset. Just as the screen is about to go black, a burst of gunfire can be heard, followed by manic laughter) Boooorn to bee wiii-ii-iild

[Ayreonia]

Montecristo. That had been the last word uttered by the dying AA bloke. Small surprise, there; the Association's headquarters were located there, so it was only logical that one of their Chief Prospectors would fly there with his high-ranking (seriously, what a joke) captive. Well, Montecristo was far to the south-southwest from the Glow, but since it was also the number one place on the planet to sell alien loot, the Vagabonds now had two incentives to go there: money, and, uh... well, one or two of them might even care for their leader.

Day. Dusk. Night. Dawn. Day. And so on. The drive was the longest so far, and monotonous enough to make the crew dull and apathetic. Not even a good battle or animal attack to spice things up. Besides, the job was done, this had been it. Once they sold the loot, they had no obligations left to stay; everyone could scatter to the four winds and go their own way, probably never seeing each other again.

There is, of course, no peering into another person's mind, but it's quite possible that some members of the group were actually happy Hiram had gotten himself captured: it was an excuse to hang around with no loss of face. Let's be honest here, most of the crew were rejects, hobos and other undesirables who had no place in the world... save for their little, ragtag but surprisingly tight-knit gang. Say what you will about lone wolves, the human is a pack animal.

So they drove on. Through the Deep Sands, into the Badlands, and eventually, after several days, reaching the Heartlands. Unlike the mostly flat and desolate Wastes, the Hearlands were riddled with canyons, gullies and the like, the results of erosion from a time when the planet was still rich with water. And there was life: animals both wild and domesticated, settlements larger and smaller, people going on about their daily lives without having to look over one shoulder, watching for a knife between their shoulder blades. It was civilization, or as close to it as it got on Postapocalyptia.

The Free City of Montecristo itself lay in the center of the Heartlands. It was difficult to spot at first, and the Vagabonds who had never seen it struggled to see a city at all. The ones who had visited before, however, watched the newbies with smirks on their faces, enjoying their bewilderment.

The city proper was ringed by ranches and farms producing all sorts of foodstuffs that weren't practical to grow in the city's hydroponic complexes. This was also a place where cattle and other domestic Earth-imported animal species were kept; their meat and skin fetched extremely high prices elsewhere. But that wasn't the city, no. The real city started at the squat but wide building the Vagabond's vehicles were ushered into. They were told to remain seated and wait until the doors opened... then the floor began dropping. After a few minutes of ponderous descent, the huge cargo elevator ground to a halt, and the doors (this time on the other side) opened.

Thank you, and welcome to Montecristo.

The barriers glided apart to reveal the Free City in all her breathtaking glory. Montecristo was built into the sides of an enormous, elongated sinkhole, with most of her buildings either carved directly into the rock or built close to it, leaving the center empty save for the bridges connecting the two sides. In the bottom of the sinkhole, water glistened. It was clear that this place wasn't dying of thirst anytime soon. With its eleven levels, this wasn't a city for agoraphobics.

Right next to the elevator was a reasonably-priced garage where the Vagabonds could leave their vehicles while they explored the beautiful city. They now had several choices, ranging from trying to find information about Hiram to seeking a buyer for the alien junk and everything in between.

[Streetgrind]

Dave Goliath

On a horrid world lay a beautiful city. It was the business oasis on a planetary desert, replete with food and drink for those who could afford. Otherwise, you were totally fucked. Inside that beautiful city was a scar of a man. He was 27, yet looked older from the strain he had put on his body. His hands were callused from years of hard work. He was wiry, yet toned from having life sculpt him into something that would not die. That man sat on top of an empty box of aspirin outside of the garages. He overlooked the men and women, vagabonds, scroungers, glorified bandits, what fucking ever. He was drunk and angry. Angry that life had to leave him with just enough to be alive. So he did what angry drunks did: play guitar and sing drunkenly.

His case was worn, although not shoddy. It was padded and modded to protect the guitar and store several firearms. Yeah, it was heavy, but it stored Dave's life: the guitar. That paid for his meals. It got him into buildings. It made him happy, too. It was open, with several wads of cash in it. Some were originally. Others weren't. You always had to seed the pot in order to get money.

"Hi every fucking body. I'm Dave Goliath, and I'm very fucking drunk. So uh, song."

Ohhhh, Carrie's Tavern is shit
Overpriced and utter shit
The prices are too high
They'll make the dead fly
They'll make a monk go into fits
Don't buy a drink
In this shit hole
Make your own
Don't pawn off your soul
Money before liquor
Makes me sicker
And liquor's all I got
So please please please
Fund my rot

Dave swung his head unconsciously, letting the music and he alcohol swing him. He was making up these lyrics on the spot, slurring them and growling them without further thought. Dave let the guitar do the talking, taking the back seat as his acoustic seemingly guided his fingers across the frets. Sometimes it was rhythmic and calming, others it was arrhythmic and frantic. He played on and on until he felt like complaining some more.

Mmmmmm
Take me away
Mmmmmm
To the fray
I've had it with this city
These committees
Oh yeah
I'm just done
I've had my fun
I need to move on
So pay me to shut up
Or fawn
But take me out there
Where there's scant a scare
Just adventure
And misadventure
Oh yeah

He began to just strum haphazardly. "Hey, uh, maggabonds. You mind taking me? I'll be your music dude." He slurred.

[Mincaldenteans]

Sev had gotten out of Lil'bit, thankful to finally stop the truck and stretch her legs. The constant driving had been dreadful with little sleep and shorter fuses. It was as though the group had a hive mind and the simplest words uttered to one another was layered with things they were either afraid to say, or preferred to ignored and not accept reality. Or maybe it was her, Sev could readily admit (to herself) that she was on edge, that the possibility of Hiram being dead would be a cold harsh reality and their efforts to catch up to him would be fruitless.

"Or we'll just kill them all," she muttered to herself.

"We catch up with Dupont, remind me to skin his ass alive with a blunt potato peeler," she said testily to no one in particular as she grabbed her gear, mainly the weapons. The rest of her stuff, including Shamrock, were left in Lucy and their living accommodations were close enough to pick up later.

Walking off, she patted Lil'bit as though it were a pet of her own and started for the...

The hobo of a sorts stopped Sev in her tracks momentarily, with his broken recorder voice that made her grimace at the sight of it. In no mood for another stranger, especially after that bitch Leann had tried to kill them (why was she with them still!?), Sev ignored the man and all but pushed him aside.

Drink first, Hiram second, and the maybe if they could squeeze in a few dead bodies along the way, Sev would consider this entire fiasco a marginal success.

[Cylarn]

After the group arrived in Montecristo, they would have to get settled in the city and work things out before they could make a move to rescue Hiram. Everyone, including Russ and Jack, had loot to off-load and other things to do first, and for Russ, he had to take care of something almost immediately. When Dahl exited the vehicle, the pothead would approach her, looking at her with his bloodshot eyes and a blunt in his hand. He had a stupid grin on his face, and he leaned against the side of Lucy.

"So, why don't we engage in some post-fightin' coitus in the back of Lucy?" he asked, guessing that he'd probably be slapped or killed, depending on Dahl's current mode.

Jack, on the other hand, was off to unload his loot. Carrying his pack full of Rigelian artifacts that were once taken for granted, he would enter a local shop and begin the process of collecting some dinero off of Rigelian goods.

[Jessjohnesik]

After the group arrived in Montecristo, they would have to get settled in the city and work things out before they could make a move to rescue Hiram. Everyone, including Russ and Jack, had loot to off-load and other things to do first, and for Russ, he had to take care of something almost immediately. When Dahl exited the vehicle, the pothead would approach her, looking at her with his bloodshot eyes and a blunt in his hand. He had a stupid grin on his face, and he leaned against the side of Lucy.

"So, why don't we engage in some post-fightin' coitus in the back of Lucy?" he asked, guessing that he'd probably be slapped or killed, depending on Dahl's current mode.

Jack, on the other hand, was off to unload his loot. Carrying his pack full of Rigelian artifacts that were once taken for granted, he would enter a local shop and begin the process of collecting some dinero off of Rigelian goods.

Dahl felt rather apathetic and relaxed, so her mood would generally be considered good. When Russ spoke, Dahl processed his words for half a minute before understanding what her had said. Then, Dahl thought about it, her apathetic expression changing only slightly. Given that Russ was quite attractive, she wouldn't mind to fuck, but she wasn't a fan of intercourse anyway, doing it whenever she felt it. And she didn't feel it all that much. Then again, Russ was quite an asshole and he smoked weed, which didn't really matter when it came to sex. But this was not the time and place and Dahl just didn't feel like it. Dahl figured that she could slap Russ, but she didn't want to, neither did she feel like breaking his neck.

"We can always fuck later, Russ. There's plenty of time ahead." The German said.

[Feroxi]

After a long trip, the gang had reached the free town of Montecristo- he had to admit the place wasn't as bad as he imagined. Upon going through some entrances, their vehicles were placed in a large garage. It would be nice to have some down time, or what passed for leisure in this place.

Aeron climbed out of the jeep's gunner hatch. He planted his boots on the ground and patted his jean pouches. Yeah, his cash and spare clips were still there. He gave a sigh of reassurance and watched as the Gellar's hopped out of their respective vehicles. He watched from afar as Russ started hitting on Dahl- which she brushed off.

He nudged Russ with a grin as he passed, "Smooth."

Aeron starting strolling off into the town, attempting to find some auto shop. After a while of searching he found Severine wandering aimless. He caught up to her and said, "Watcha doing?"

[Mincaldenteans]

After a long trip, the gang had reached the free town of Montecristo- he had to admit the place wasn't as bad as he imagined. Upon going through some entrances, their vehicles were placed in a large garage. It would be nice to have some down time, or what passed for leisure in this place.

Aeron climbed out of the jeep's gunner hatch. He planted his boots on the ground and patted his jean pouches. Yeah, his cash and spare clips were still there. He gave a sigh of reassurance and watched as the Gellar's hopped out of their respective vehicles. He watched from afar as Russ started hitting on Dahl- which she brushed off.

He nudged Russ with a grin as he passed, "Smooth."

Aeron starting strolling off into the town, attempting to find some auto shop. After a while of searching he found Severine wandering aimless. He caught up to her and said, "Watcha doing?"

Sev nearly jumped, taking a quick glance at who had snuck up on her. Realizing it was Aeron, the young woman shrugged, flipping strands of her hair away from her face as she did so. "Went to a bar, found it full of morons. Went to another bar, found it full of fucktards. Gave the notion up that I can't drink til later. Ditched the group for a few so I could cool of; they can go sell the crap we found. Also, its been days since this nonstop trip to here, we've got a bitch in tow who tried to kill me and Furia - thank you for giving her a one, two by the way - and I'm," Sev shrugged again, "I'm just on edge."

The street here was busier than the few she had passed since getting out of the technical and making a speedy exit. It was like a bazaar, one Sev remembered seeing when she was a little child before moving onto wherever it was her parents dragged her along. This street was decorated with all manner of clothing, trinkets, food, gadgets. From simple cheap fabrics and furniture to exotic, ornate and 'rare' items. Men and woman alike hollered out loud to attract would be buyers, while the customers themselves examined the goods and bargained heatedly. For a city built into the walls of a large gaping hole, this place felt more firmly situated like any on the surface - solid ground - than it did sitting precariously close to the large body of water that waited below.

"How did you find me anyway? This place ain't exactly small."

[Ayreonia]

So, this was it. Hew Parish was back home in one piece, thank goodness.

He only hoped his captors would be lenient enough to let him go. There was no reason to keep him around, anyway, and he had done nothing against them... he had even helped the cannibal out (if panic-spraying three Chinamen with bullets counted as helping). Strangely enough, he didn't feel the pang of guilt he would have expected to have after killing several someones. It was probably the damn planet, he mused. A place such as this would desensitize even the most timid individual - which Parish admittedly was. It was somewhat of a detriment when trying to negotiate with a bunch of cold-blooded killers, what he was about to do now.

"So, First Sergeant..." he tentatively tried, having followed the apparent leader of the group in the absence of their actual boss. "Uh, thanks for the ride and all I guess, but now that we're back here, I'd, uh, appreciate if you let me go. No rush I mean," he added hastily, "and, erm, I realize I could just walk away, but... you've still got my equipment. Including my gun, which is company property... the Association's, I mean. And it cost a fortune." He paused to clear his throat as assertively as he could. In reality he was just covering a swallow. "So if I could get my stuff back, I'd just go my separate way, and..."

---

The cell Hiram Dupont was held in wasn't much of a cell. It was more akin to a small motel room, with a cot, a tiny table and even his own toilet. Food came thrice a day, the warden let him read the papers when he was done with them, and he had even managed to smuggle in some matches, even if he had to coordinate his smoking with shitting to mask the smell. All in all, it was all pretty cozy, if you discounted the daily waterboarding and the lost left arm.

He once again caught himself at scratching the nonexistent appendage, muttering curses and forcing himself to lower his hand. The doctor said that the phantom sensations would go away with time, but damn, was it annoying. He had also said that the nerves were intact enough that Hiram could get a cybernetic arm, but when Hiram had asked him about getting one, the doc had just shrugged and said that he wasn't authorized to hand out limbs to captives.

Captives. He had been the first to use the word he had used in his mind all along. Officially, he was under arrest for suspected sabotage of Association property, but there was no evidence whatsoever. There couldn't have been, since technically it had been Clara to sabotage the crawler-carrier. Still, he was interrogated about it every day, along with questions about UNSEC operations. It was amusing that they still didn't realize the ruse.

Until that day. Hiram was just about to have a wank (fortunately, he was right-handed) when he heard the door click. Cursing, he tucked his member away and assumed a devastated-looking pose on the cot. The person who burst through wasn't his usual warden, not the torturer, or even the doctor: it was none other than Chief Prospector Jamie Hicks himself.

The Vagabond raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You come here often, honey?"

"Cut the bullshit, Dupont," Jamie snarled and threw a copy of Rigel Times at him. He caught it, wondering what this was all about, and smoothed the front page with his stump. Uh-oh.

UNSEC DENIES EXISTENCE OF INDEPENDENT PATROL BRAVO 17

the headline blared. Hiram coughed and stole a look at the seething Jamie.

"So, uh, big deal," he tried, "you see, we're a secret group..."

"Yeah? How about this, then?"

The entire next page was dedicated to the "Deep Sands Incident," as the paper called it. In the lower right corner was a shoddy photo of Hiram... at Lou's in Twixt Hills, having a massive coughing fit because of Furia's diesel lighter. I should have killed that fucker, Hiram thought blankly. Oh wait, I did. "This... is a pretty unflattering pic."

"Read on," Jamie commanded.

So there was the bomb. UNSEC had disclosed information about 1st Sgt Russell Gellar, who had been discharged years before. None of his group had any affiliation towards the government either. Furthermore, they had never fielded CV-R3s.

Well, so much for that deception. Hiram couldn't help but smirk. "Y'know, I never thought that'd actually work. Seems like you was thicker than I knew."

"You will pay for this," Jamie hissed. The familiar shape of the torturer had appeared behind him.

Well, here we go again.

[Cylarn]

Russ sighed at Dahl as he got shot down, choosing to take a drag of his blunt afterwards. The soldier soon retrieved his artifact-laden satchel or two from the back of Lucy, and just as he was about to take off and carry out the plans for the day, he was confronted the Asshole from earlier. The man timidly began asking if he could get his gear back. Russ smirked at the young man, and had an idea. He turned to face the guy, making sure to move in real close in order to intimidate his rival.

"Let me tell you a story 'bout Assholes Archaelogisms, alright?" Russ said. "A long, long time ago, I had someone that I really cared about, and she got killed by you and your people. So, as compensation, I'm keepin' you and your gear, at least until we rescue Hiram from your faggot-ass headquarters."

[Feroxi]

Sev nearly jumped, taking a quick glance at who had snuck up on her. Realizing it was Aeron, the young woman shrugged, flipping strands of her hair away from her face as she did so. "Went to a bar, found it full of morons. Went to another bar, found it full of fucktards. Gave the notion up that I can't drink til later. Ditched the group for a few so I could cool of; they can go sell the crap we found. Also, its been days since this nonstop trip to here, we've got a bitch in tow who tried to kill me and Furia - thank you for giving her a one, two by the way - and I'm," Sev shrugged again, "I'm just on edge."

The street here was busier than the few she had passed since getting out of the technical and making a speedy exit. It was like a bazaar, one Sev remembered seeing when she was a little child before moving onto wherever it was her parents dragged her along. This street was decorated with all manner of clothing, trinkets, food, gadgets. From simple cheap fabrics and furniture to exotic, ornate and 'rare' items. Men and woman alike hollered out loud to attract would be buyers, while the customers themselves examined the goods and bargained heatedly. For a city built into the walls of a large gaping hole, this place felt more firmly situated like any on the surface - solid ground - than it did sitting precariously close to the large body of water that waited below.

"How did you find me anyway? This place ain't exactly small."

Aeron matched her pace with his hands in his pants pockets. He shrugged, "It's not too hard when someone's been hunting creatures- and people since adolescence. Plus, boredom is a damn good motivation."

He gave his usual disarming grin. As the duo continued he heard the familiar pitter patter of claws on ground. He glanced behind him and saw his four legged companion running through the crowds, causing some merchants to drop their wares in surprise. It began trotting beside the two Vagabonds with a bounce in it's step. Aeron watched the town's denizens go about their business. It was something he had never seen before.

It was civilization. Sure, not glamorous as the fabled inner colonies- but it was better than being out in the badlands. It was an amazing jumble of shopping stalls and buildings. People bustled from one end of town to the other. Hell, he saw people sell and purchase some crops he'd never seen. It was as if he was entering another world.

Aeron turned to Sev and said, "I was going to give the technical some add-ons. Want to come along? It's your ride, after all."

Still distracted with the whole transition, he tripped over a certain guitar strumming inebriate's cash filled case.

He said, "Son of a bitch," and began gathering the bills before it was all stolen or blown across town.

[Mincaldenteans]

--ooc: snipped and moved below--

[The Carlisle]

The trip to Montecristo had been a long but calm one. For once, her personalities were calm. It was either the meds or that they were tired. Probably the meds. Entering the city brought familiar feelings. She had been to Montecristo several times before. Some by vehicle, others by foot. She remembered the first time coming here. It was with her mentor Jared. The man picked her out of the badlands and made her his apprentice. She was lucky as he was the best wanderer known all across Rigel. He was a cartographer and a soldier before coming to Rigel-3.

"You ever been to a big city lass?" said a familiar voice. She looked to the driver's side of Lil'bit, only to see an empty seat.

She got out of the technical, plopping herself onto familiar ground. She had been around Montecristo's streets, seen the locale. It was nothing new to her. She had been here several times to sell artifacts. But she couldn't shake off the feeling of being in a big city. It made her feel giddy, and excited... wait. Headaches started to pound her mind. She knew what was coming, a shift in personality. She grasped her head and stumbled about before stopping. A grin grew wide on her face. Typical of the kid.

Before her was something new and exciting. She never been to a big city like this! Shackvilles and deserts were the only places she had been. She ran down the streets, intent on seeing everything!................. before suddenly stopping in front of the music man. She was entranced by his singing and the sound of the guitar. After he was done, Eira stood over him smiling.

"You're music sound nice!" she said, "Join our group!"

[Ayreonia]

"Oh, that's sad," Parish snapped. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Except you know what?" In an uncharacteristic fit of courage, he raised his eyes to meet the UNSEC soldier's gaze and pointed a finger at his chest. "I'm not. Because you personally murdered a bunch of helpless wounded civilians out in the Sands. At the carrier, remember?"

The shopkeeper lifted his gaze from the loot Russ had dumped on his counter, made a face and, quite prudently, exited the shop through a back door. Goddamn Vagabond savages and their feuds.

"You think the loss of your sex toy makes you morally superior?" the Prospector rambled on. The man ordinarily so careful with his words just vented. He was beyond caring. "Think again, asshole. All those people had friends and families. You're no better than whoever that was who killed your girl. Fucking hypocrite."

With that, he turned and strode out of the door, catching the jamb at the last second for one final blow. "Oh, and First Sergeant?" he hollered back. "You'll never get in the Association offices. Ever. The MCPD will arrest you all... or if I'm lucky, AA security kills you. Have fun."

He walked out. He didn't care that he wasn't supposed to, that he was a captive in all but name. Let them tackle him, tie him up, shoot him in the back, no fucks given. Man, it felt good to be angry for once.

Not looking where he was going, he suddenly bumped into a girl listening to a hobo with a guitar. "Excuse me," he grunted, before realizing who it was. "Oh hey, maneater. Having fun in the big city? You should love it, lots of innocent people to brutally murder and snack on. What are you looking at, vagrant?" he screeched at the guy wearing a bathrobe, then stalked off. Somewhere. Anywhere.

[Cylarn]

Livid would not be a word to describe Russ's current mood. His facial expression turned to one of absolute hatred, though he made no sound as Parish insulted him. Russ knew that he had murdered the AA nuts, but he felt as though it was justifiable, when compared to atrocities committed by AA, as well as the fact that the ground didn't need to rescue the AA stooges. Insulting the woman that he once loved, on the other hand, was a grave insult to Russ, one that he would not let go lightly.

When the shopkeeper returned and bought the Rigelian junk, Russ noticed several items on the shelf behind the counter: a DVD copy of Blade Runner, an empty glass bottle, a simple vest, an alarm clock, and a bundle of wires. the old soldier motioned to the items, and once he had purchased them, he promptly left the store, searching for the idiotic Parish.

It didn't take long for the soldier to find Parish, and he moved in behind Parish and the others. Nonchalantly and silently approaching, he brandished the bottle in his right hand, with his eyes locked on Parish as he sped up his walking. Soon, he would build into a run and finally, a sprint, jumping up in the air as he reached Parish. As he was airborne, he raised the empty bottle above his head, and bring it down on top of Parish's head, likely knocking him out and giving him some nasty cuts on his head. If Parish had someone stopped Russ from bringing the bottle down onto his head, the burly soldier would attempt to knock down Parish with his weight, jumping on top on him.

If Russ was successfully in injuring Parish and knocking him down or out, the former First Sergeant would stand over Parish, glaring at him as he reached down and picked up the prospector by his collar.

"I did your people a favor, Parish," he said coldly. "We had no plans to drag 'em here, and besides, if I was a piece of shit, I would've left 'em to get picked apart by the Daggerwrists. Have you ever seen a man get eaten by a Daggerwrist? It's not as soft-core as cannibalism, 'cause Daggerwrists like it when their prey are alive when they're eatin'. And you know what, I'm gonna get into the Assholes Archipelaigiacs office, and you're gonna help me."

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

Elsha had nearly leaped out of Lucy when she had the chance, the combined energy of several days finally having a chance to escape. Unlike some of the tired and upset crew, more optimistic Ellie was in a genuinely good mood, even though she knew that Hiram could be dead. Look to the future and beg for the past, she mentally repeated her personal mantra, we'll all have the good things, but they'll never seem to last. She left her grenade launcher behind for now, as she knew collateral damage was something to avoid without plausible deniability, but otherwise took her full complement of gear.

Gazing at the city of Montecristo, it was an amazing sight for her. She had grown up in the dense megacities on Earth, and had never seen a place like this. Heard tales, sure, but never seen. She still preferred the cold glass towers and chilling rain of her home, but this place still seemed marvelous to her. First thing's first though: pawn the rocks.

Elsha was wandering the bazaar district when she heard some yelling over the din of people hocking their wares, and knowing how some of her buddies were feeling right about now figured it would be best to hurry over. When Elsha got there, she was treated to the lovely sight of Russ holding Parish up by his collar.

"The hell are you doing?" she barked at Russ

[Jessjohnesik]

Well that looks nice

Anna though as she took notice of a rather pretty coat at the bazaar. An Armenian looking woman seemed to be the owner of it, so Anna approached her and reached for he wallet. The Armenian immediately lightened up and, with her rather thick Armenian accent, started to question Anna on what particularly was she interested in.
"My lovely dear, what is it you want? I have anything and everything for you, beautiful girl!" The more than middle aged woman chanted her usual song that was aimed at selling more things to every other 'beautiful girl' or 'handsome man'. Anna full well understood this, but was somewhat flattered nevertheless.
After buying the surprisingly well-made piece of clothes, Anna suddenly stumbled upon Russ, hitting some guy, who looked a lot like Parish, on the head.

"Making friends, Russ?" Anna sarcastically asked.

[Ayreonia]

People were actually moving out of Parish's way. It was something completely new to him, but unfortunately he was in no state to notice and enjoy it. Not that he would have, mind; had he ever experienced what it felt like to intimidate someone, he would probably have hated it.

Still, it was exactly what he was doing now. Even without his weapons, an AA Prospector in combat armor and their traditional badass longcoat was not someone who looked like a target for messing with. Add to that his brisk stride and the look of utter hatred on his face, and it was no surprise people gave way to him.

Of course, him being a calm and composed individual at heart, he eventually cooled off. He'd first go to see his wife, he decided. Poor Sammy must have been worried sick. Parish only hoped that nobody had told her that he was dead or anything. He felt a pang of guilt, even if none of his predicaments were his fault to begin with. He'd visit her, hold her hand and tell her everything was fine, then go to the Association offices on Summit Street and tell them he was still alive. Good plan? Great plan.

Of course, everything went tits up the next moment. Parish barely had time to register the tingling sensation on his neck before the bottle came crashing down on the back of his head. It hurt. Nine hells, it hurt. First came the concussion, then the jerk, then the stings. The Prospector staggered, blinked, almost fell over trying to turn, then collapsed... or would have, had Russ not grabbed the collar of his flak vest.

"Glass... bottle?" he managed to stammer out, blood trickling into and stinging his eyes, making tears run down his cheeks. "Dick move."


"I did your people a favor, Parish," the UNSEC steeled. "We had no plans to drag 'em here, and besides, if I was a piece of shit, I would'veeofmsdgosdnsdfsodfsdnsdfhsdfnsdofds..." the meaning of the words was starting to escape Parish, save for one last thing:

"I'm gonna get into the Assholes Archipelaigiacs office, and you're gonna help me."

"Drop... dead," he coughed, then passed out.

Of course, a man hitting another one on the head with a glass bottle wasn't something that went unnoticed in a bustling bazaar. Cries of "Assault!" "Someone call the police!" and "Finally, some action!" went up as people began running away from the bloody scene. Head wounds were pretty scary, what with bleeding like hell and that, and people in civilized-ish places such as the Cristo were a bit more squeamish about blood than your average Vagabond. Hence the screaming and running.

It wouldn't take long for the police to arrive. Civilian motor traffic was forbidden on the narrow streets of Montecristo, so the MCPD got wherever they needed to quickly on their trots and motorbikes. True enough, the blaring of sirens could soon be heard in the distance.

What do, Vagabonds?

[Mincaldenteans]

Aeron matched her pace with his hands in his pants pockets. He shrugged, "It's not too hard when someone's been hunting creatures- and people since adolescence. Plus, boredom is a damn good motivation."

He gave his usual disarming grin. As the duo continued he heard the familiar pitter patter of claws on ground. He glanced behind him and saw his four legged companion running through the crowds, causing some merchants to drop their wares in surprise. It began trotting beside the two Vagabonds with a bounce in it's step. Aeron watched the town's denizens go about their business. It was something he had never seen before.

It was civilization. Sure, not glamorous as the fabled inner colonies- but it was better than being out in the badlands. It was an amazing jumble of shopping stalls and buildings. People bustled from one end of town to the other. Hell, he saw people sell and purchase some crops he'd never seen. It was as if he was entering another world.

Aeron turned to Sev and said, "I was going to give the technical some add-ons. Want to come along? It's your ride, after all."

Still distracted with the whole transition, he tripped over a certain guitar strumming inebriate's cash filled case.

He said, "Son of a bitch," and began gathering the bills before it was all stolen or blown across town.

Severine was quiet for a few moments as she took in Aeron's offer while she quickly cataloged, or struggled to with her current mood and frame of mind, on what the technical needed. "Sure. I've been trying to upgrade Lil'Bit's communication systems since its still coming in shoddy with Lucy. I could use one or two weapon emplacements on it; failing that something along the lines of armor. She did okay in that firefight, but only because Lucy was the bigger target," shaking her head, "Lucy can't be everywhere and when that happens... I'd like to think those that took the technical will come back in one piece. And--"

Sev made a sound at the sight of Aeron chasing down the bills on behalf of the hobo. The word sap came to mind and Sev wasn't sure if she had actually said it out loud. Frankly, if the money mattered so much, the bastard that needed it would've gone chasing for it. Guess some things weren't that worth it. She didn't bother calling after him, merely stopping in her tracks and crossed her arms waiting for the goody two-shoes to come back with the money.

The trip to Montecristo had been a long but calm one. For once, her personalities were calm. It was either the meds or that they were tired. Probably the meds. Entering the city brought familiar feelings. She had been to Montecristo several times before. Some by vehicle, others by foot. She remembered the first time coming here. It was with her mentor Jared. The man picked her out of the badlands and made her his apprentice. She was lucky as he was the best wanderer known all across Rigel. He was a cartographer and a soldier before coming to Rigel-3.

"You ever been to a big city lass?" said a familiar voice. She looked to the driver's side of Lil'bit, only to see an empty seat.

She got out of the technical, plopping herself onto familiar ground. She had been around Montecristo's streets, seen the locale. It was nothing new to her. She had been here several times to sell artifacts. But she couldn't shake off the feeling of being in a big city. It made her feel giddy, and excited... wait. Headaches started to pound her mind. She knew what was coming, a shift in personality. She grasped her head and stumbled about before stopping. A grin grew wide on her face. Typical of the kid.

Before her was something new and exciting. She never been to a big city like this! Shackvilles and deserts were the only places she had been. She ran down the streets, intent on seeing everything!................. before suddenly stopping in front of the music man. She was entranced by his singing and the sound of the guitar. After he was done, Eira stood over him smiling.

"You're music sound nice!" she said, "Join our group!"

Sev gave a look at Eira. It wasn't friendly. "Seriously? I know we're a bunch of hooligans, likely wanted by now knowing the Asexual Asshats, but we don't need homeless junkies like that pile over there." She pointed to the man that wasn't any more than a couple feet away. "I wouldn't waste a bullet on him if it ever came down to it...Aeron! Quit chasing after the dough, will ya! The fucker doesn't want it... actually no! Get the money, we're hitting a bar first, see what we can come up with... with... well you know!

"Come on, Eira. Say bye the to bum, likely he won't see tomorrow," she said with sudden cheeriness at the thought of shots of tequila and pre-planning to getting Hiram out of Montecristo, but mostly the shots first.

[Jessjohnesik]

Anna froze for a second, unsure of how she could escape the police. Clara was with Dahl so she couldn't temporarily blind the policemen or distract them. They could not kill the police, for sure, while hiding would only temporarily solve their problem as they still needed to rescue Hiram.

"Russ, we need to go right now. I don't quite want to go behind bars." The woman said in a low tone, just hearable for Russ.

[Feroxi]

Aeron continued to grab the bills floating through the wind. He glanced behind him and saw a disgruntled Parish trudging around. Parish was in a big tiff, but then again who wouldn't be in this situation? Before he could attempt to calm the man down, a particular pain in the ass came crashing down on the former archaeologist with a glass bottle in his grasp. He listened as Russ said something to Parish, but it was drowned out due to numerous gasps and cries from the crowds of people.

Once more things were going down the shitter. Then again, things tended to in the career of a Vagabond. Aeron tossed a couple bills at the homeless musician and followed Sev with the rest of the cash. It would be best that the gang dispersed and not get more attention. He'd have to remind the pot-puffing former soldier what inconspicuous meant- after some fun, of course.

He divided the bills into thirds and handed a pile to Sev and then Eira, who seemed to be having another... episode.

"Let's go find the nearest bar. I need to unwind."

[Cylarn]

When people began yelling for help, Russ remembered that Monte was the home of all of Rigel's bitches and pansies. For such a badass planet like PostPoc, Russ find it hard to believe that some people were still trying to act as though this place wasn't a lawless wasteland. Russ shrugged, and put Parish on his shoulder as he jogged into a nearby alley, hopefully with Anna in tow. Response for the police in Monte was startlingly fast, and by the time that Russ turned into another alley, the policia had shown up, securing the area. Russ had to get to The Last Round before the cops caught up, but Russ was lucky that the bar was just nearby. He had served with the guy who ran the place; Tom Boothe and Russ were both in IP together, and Russ had saved Tom's life on several occasions. Hopefully, Tom would give Russ and the crew a place to stay in Monte.

The only problem was that Parish was dripping blood, which would allow the police to trail them. Russ stopped nearby, and took the opportunity to use his spare shemagh to at least somewhat bandage the prospector's head wound. Once they got into the bar, Russ could actually do some work and attempt to heal Parish up. With the blood trail issue taken care of, but with the police steadily catching up, Russ couldn't have found the back to The Last Round sooner, and he promptly threw open the door and moved inside, closing it once Anna got in the building.

For now, they were somewhat safe. As Russ moved into the main area of the sparsely-populated bar, he spotted Tom on the other side of the counter, cleaning some glasses.

"Tom, shut up and close the blinds," Russ ordered. "Everyone, act normal."

Tom turned to see his old battle-buddy carrying a gravely-injured AA prospector, with an attractive woman behind him. Tom shrugged his shoulders and left the bar counter, closing the window blinds as the police passed by. Next, Russ carried Parish onto an empty table and tossed him on top of it before removing Parish's body armor and webbing. He then turned to Anna, who could do more good than Russ.

"Anna, can you fix him up?" Russ asked as he exposed Parish's head wound.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

Not wanted to get involved with the law, Elsha needed to make an escape. It seemed that Russ had forgotten how civilized people react to random violence in the street; they get the police to deal with it. This was going to end poorly for someone, and she frankly hoped it was Russ. I'm not helping his ass if he gets arrested she thought to herself as she ran he freaking earned it.

Elsha was glanced over her shoulder at where the incident took for a second, to make sure she could put enough distance between her and Russ. In that brief second, she managed to run into something. The obstacle was soft and meaty, but it was strong. The impact had managed to send Ellie on her back at the feet of the obstacle. She lay there for a moment before propping herself up on her elbows and looked up to see what she had hit. It was Sev.

[Jessjohnesik]

"While yes I can. It doesn't seem serious so this will be easy." Anna said rather relaxed, before suddenly remembering why the hell in the first place was Parish wounded and they were chased after by the police. "If you hadn't done this shit in the first place, we wouldn't have been in this situation. You must learn to be civilised." She added, this time hostile and clearly unhappy. Then, she grabbed Parish's head and took a closer look at the wound, inspecting it very briefly before quickly thinking up the things she would need to treat the injury. Reaching for a large, closed pocket in her labcoat, Anna took out some disinfectant, latex gloves, a pincette and bandages.

After putting on the gloves, Anna dropped some disinfectant on them, before elegantly grasping the pincette and slowly approaching the head wound. Her green eyes, bound in glasses, located some shards of glass. She proceeded to steadily take them out and toss them to the side. Once the wound was free of foreign objects, Anna wrapped the bandages around her right arm and firmly pressed it against the wound.
"Everything is fine now, I just need to apply pressure for more time." Anna assured Russ, although not quite understanding why was she even doing that considering Russ probably didn't give much shits on Parish's life.

[Cylarn]

"What the fuck is going on, Russ?" Tom asked.

"This idiot decided to talk 'bout the thing we talked 'bout a couple years back," he said. "Remember? I get pissed when people talk ill of you-know-who. Don't matter where I am; I always take actions to prevent someone from makin' that mistake twice."

"God damnit Russ," Tom said. "Fabiana would want you to move on, not to bash nerds over the head for insulting her memory, man. Why'd you bring him to my bar?"

Russ looked over at Parish, who seemed to be somewhat taken care of. He then looked at Anna, who was clearly distressed. The veteran gave a smirk as he produced a blunt and sat down.

"He deserved it," he said. "I am civilized, but like most people, certain things send me into an uncontrollable rage that ends with someone taking a grievous wound to the dome-piece. And Tom, we need you."

Tom moved back to the counter and smirked at his battle-buddy.

"What?" he asked.

"AA got a guy I was searchin' ruins with," he said. "We came here to search for him at the AA base, but we need a base of our own for this. I'll also have to contact some of the old Patrol, those guys I worked with on that sabo job in Náttúrbærinn, and then those assholes who left me to rot at Howl-."

"No," Tom said bluntly. "No."

Russ smirked; Tom was saying no, but both men knew that Tom had to owe Russ some favors. Russ took a drag of his blunt, and spoke up.

"Remember that time back in the Sands, when we were huntin' down those banditos who were pickin' off settlers?" Russ asked.

"How could anyone forget that hellhunt?" Tom said in response as he produced 3 beers, knowing what Russ was going to bring up.

"Remember when that fuck shot a round through your Kevlar and your lung had some 'foreign materials' in it?" Russ asked once more. "Who gave you an emergency tracheotomy?"

Tom sighed as he cracked open one of the beers. Russ had indeed saved his life that day, albeit with a pocket knife and a crazy straw.

"You did," Tom said. "Guess I still owe you one for that, Russ. Alright, you can stay here 'til you get your friend back. Let me see who I can get to help out."

"Capital!" Russ exclaimed as he opened up the non-twist-top beer with his hand and took a swig. "The main issue with us rescuin' our buddy is that the Monte 5-0 have a 30-second response time, as I witnessed while draggin' fat little Paris through the alleyways of our proud city. That's why we need to treat the Monte 5-0 like an oil well fire, like in that John Wayne movie."

"What do you mean, Russ?" Tom asked. "Who the hell is John Wayne?"

"Founder of the US," Russ said. "Going on, we need to divert the attention of the 5-0 from the AA HQ. That's why we'll have two or three different diversions just inside the same q- Got a map on you?"

Tom nodded, and produced a map of Monte. The two men began to go over the map, locating the AA HQ, which was within a city quadrant that was around 5 blocks wide and 8 blocks long, with the AA base in the middle. Russ pointed to the northwestern edge of the quadrant, followed by the northeastern edge. Lastly, he selected the southwestern edge of the quadrant

"Bombin' and gunfights will trigger the police to respond," Russ said. "We'll then have those elements gradually lead the 5-0 from the quadrant with further violence, allowin' us to approach from the southeast. That's what I got so far, but I'll need the rest of the crew."

"